Wadjda – Bitch Flicks

Women Directors Week: The Roundup

Check out all of the posts from our Women Directors Theme Week here.

Women with a Camera: How Women Directors Can Change the Cinematic Landscape by Emanuela Betti

What I saw… was the problem women have faced for centuries: the popularity of woman as art subject, not as creator. What critics and award judges seem to love are not so much women’s stories, but women’s stories told by men. Stories in which women’s agency is strictly and safely in the hands of a male auteurs. … We need more women filmmakers — not as a way to fill quotas, but because women’s stories are different, unique, and need to be told.

Why Eve’s Bayou Is a Great American Art Film by Amirah Mercer

The story of a family burdened by salacious and supernatural secrets in 1962 Louisiana, the movie has become one of the finer American films in the Southern gothic tradition; but with a Black director and an all-Black cast, Eve’s Bayou has been unceremoniously booted from its deserving recognition as the fantastic, moody art film it is.

Leigh Janiak’s Honeymoon as Feminist Horror by Dawn Keetley

The film thus brilliantly puts the everyday (marriage) on a continuum with the horrifying (possession?), connecting the problem of Bea’s troubled self-expression and containment, now that she’s married, to the later seemingly supernatural plot. … Are the seemingly supernatural elements of the plot symbolic of Bea’s struggles with intimacy and the weighty expectations of married domestic life (sex, cooking, and reproduction)? Janiak’s expert writing and directing definitely leaves open this possible subtext of the film…

When Love Looks Like Me: How Gina Prince-Bythewood Brought Real Love to the Big Screen by Shannon Miller

Gina Prince-Bythewood’s choice to center these themes around a young Black couple shouldn’t feel as revolutionary as it does. But when you consider that “universal” is too often conflated with “white,” Love & Basketball feels like such a turning point in the romance genre. It was certainly a turning point for me because, for a moment, Black love and romance, as told by Hollywood, weren’t mutually exclusive.

Sofia Coppola as Auteur: Historical Femininity and Agency in Marie Antoinette by Marlana Eck

Sofia Coppola’s film conveys, to me, a range of feminist concerns through history. Concerns of how much agency, even in a culture of affluence, women can wield given that so much of women’s lives are dictated by the structures of patriarchy.

The Gender Trap and Women Directors by Jenna Ricker

But, when was the last time ANYONE sat down to write a story, or direct a project and asked themselves — Is this story masculine or feminine? Exactly none, I suspect. … Storytellers tell stories, audiences engage, the formula is quite simple. But, it only works one way — male filmmakers are able to make any film they want without biased-loaded gender questions, whereas women filmmakers always face more scrutiny and criticism.

Individuality in Lucia Puenzo’s XXY, The Fish Child, and The German Doctor by Sara Century

In the end, it is this focus on individuality that is the most striking common theme of Lucia Puenzo’s works. Each of her characters undergoes intense scrutiny from outside forces, be it Alex in ‘XXY’ for their gender, Lala in ‘The Fish Child’ for her infatuation with Ailin, or Lilith from ‘The German Doctor,’ who is quite literally forced into a physical transformation by a Nazi.

Andrea Arnold: A Voice for the Working Class Women of Britain by Sophie Hall

British director/screenwriter Andrea Arnold has three short films and three feature films under her belt, and four out of six of those center on working class people. … [The characters in Fish Tank, Wasp, Red Road, and Wuthering Heights] venture off away from the preconceived notions they have been given, away from the stereotypes forced upon them, and the boxes society has trapped them in.

Susanne Bier’s Living, Breathing Body of Work by Sonia Lupher

Women consistently make good films around the world, even if we have to look outside Hollywood to find them. Susanne Bier is one powerful example. Her vivid, probing explorations into family dynamics and tenuous relationships are fiercely suggestive marks of a female auteur that deserves recognition.

No Apologies: The Ambition of Gillian Armstrong and My Brilliant Career by Rebecca Hirsch Garcia

However, Armstrong also doesn’t mock Sybylla’s ambition or treat it as a joke. In Armstrong’s world, the fact that Sybylla has desires and wants outside of marriage and men is treated seriously because Sybylla takes it seriously. She never needs to prove herself worthy enough for her desires. … [She is] a woman who bravely acts according to her own desires, someone willing to risk everything in order to have what she wants and who recognizes that men and romance are not the sum total of her world.

OMG a Vagina: The Struggle for Artistic The Struggle for Feminine Artistic Integrity in Kimberly Peirce’s Carrie by Horrorella

Carrie is a terrifying and compelling story, but there is certainly something to be gained and perhaps a certain truth to be found in watching the pain of her journey into womanhood as told by a woman director. … But even in the face of these small victories, we have to wonder how the film would have been different had Peirce been allowed to tell this story without being inhibited by the fear and discomfort of the male voices around her.

Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark: Busting Stereotypes and Drawing Blood by Lee Jutton

Both brutally violent and shockingly sexy, Near Dark’s influence can be felt nearly thirty years later on a new crop of unusual vampire dramas that simultaneously embrace and reject the conventions of the genre. … Yet among all these films about outsiders, Near Dark will always have a special place in my heart for being the one to show me that as a filmmaker, I was not alone in the world after all.

Fangirls, It’s Time to #AskForMore by Alyssa Franke

In the battle to address the staggering gender gap in women directing for film and television, there is one huge untapped resource — the passion and organizing power of fangirls.

Euzhan Palcy’s A Dry White Season: Black Lives in a White Season by Shara D. Taylor

It is doubtful that anyone else could have made A Dry White Season as poignantly relevant as Euzhan Palcy did. Her eye for the upending effects of apartheid on Black families brings their grievances to bear. … The meaning behind Palcy’s work resounds clearly: Black lives matter in 1976 South Africa as they do in 2016 America.

Why Desperately Seeking Susan Is One of My Favorite Films by Alex Kittle

The character was created to be an icon, a model for Roberta and other women like her, an image to hold in our heads of what life could be like if we just unleashed our inner pop star. But she’s also real enough that it feels like you might spot her in a hip nightclub, dancing uninhibited and having more fun than anyone else there just because she’s being herself.

Movie You Need to Be Talking About: Advantageous by Candice Frederick

Directed and co-written by Jennifer Phang, Advantageous is a surprisingly touching and purposeful film that revitalizes certain elements of the sci-fi genre while presenting two powerful voices in women filmmakers: Jennifer Phang and Jacqueline Kim.

Concussion: When Queer Marriage in the Suburbs Isn’t Enough by Ren Jender

The queer women we see in sexual situations in Concussion are not cut from the same Playboy-ready cloth as the two women in Blue is the Warmest Color: one client is fat, another is an obvious real-life survivor of breast cancer and some of her clients, like Eleanor herself, are nowhere near their 20s anymore.

I’m a Lilly – And You’re Probably One Too: All Women Face Gender Discrimination by Rachel Feldman

Another obstacle to getting Ledbetter made is the industry’s perception of my value as the film’s director. There are certainly a handful of women directors whose identities are well known, but generally, even colleagues in our industry, when asked, can only name a handful of female directors. Of course, there are thousands of amazingly talented women directing; in fact there are 1,350 experienced women directors in our Guild, but for the vast majority of us our credits are devalued and we struggle to be seen and heard – just like Lilly.

Making a Murderer, Fantastic Lies, and the Uneasy Exculpation Narratives by Women Directors by Eva Phillips

What is most remarkable and perhaps most subversively compelling about both ‘Making a Murderer’ and ‘Fantastic Lies,’ and about the intentions and directorial choices of their respective creators, is that neither documentary endeavor chronicles the sagas of particularly defensible — or even, to some, at all likable — men.

Lena Dunham and the Creator’s “Less-Than-Perfect” Body On-Screen by Sarah Halle Corey

Every time someone calls to question the fact that Lena Dunham parades her rolls of fat in front of her audience, we need to examine why they’re questioning it. Is it because they’re wondering how it serves the narrative of ‘Girls’? Or is it because they’re balking at “less-than-perfection” (according to normative societal conventions) in the female form?

Female Becomingness Through Maya Deren’s Lens in Meshes of the Afternoon by Allie Gemmill

Her most famous work, Meshes of the Afternoon becomes, in this way, a reading of a woman working with and against herself through splitting into multiple iterations of herself. Most importantly, the film unpacks the notion that not only is the dream-landscape of a woman complex, it is bound tightly to her, defining who she is and guiding her constantly through the world like a compass.

Kelly Reichardt’s Wendy and Lucy: Heartbreak in a Panning Shot by ThoughtPusher

Through the course of the film, Kelly Reichardt’s pacing is so deliberate that even the most ordinary moments seem intensely significant. Reichardt’s framing traps Wendy in shots as much as her broken-down car and lack of money trap her in the town.

Sofia Coppola and The Silent Woman by Paulette Reynolds

Many films touch upon the theme of female isolation, but I remain fascinated with Sofia Coppola’s three major cinematic creations that explore the world of The Silent Woman: The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation, and Marie Antoinette (2006). Each film delves into this enigma, forming a multifaceted frame of reference for a shared understanding.

The Anti-Celebrity Cinema of Mary Harron: I Shot Andy Warhol, The Notorious Bettie Page, and The Anna Nicole Story by Elizabeth Kiy

I’ve always thought Mary Harron’s work was the perfect example of why we need female directors. I think the films she produces provide a perspective we would never see in a world unilaterally controlled by male filmmakers. Harron appears to specialize in off-beat character studies of the types of people a male director may not gravitate towards, nor treat with appropriate gravitas. She treats us to humanizing takes on sex workers and sex symbols, angry lesbians and radical feminism and makes them hard to turn away from.

How Women Directors Turn Narrative on Its Head by Laura Power

Marielle Heller (The Diary of a Teenage Girl), Miranda July (Me and You and Everyone We Know), and the women directors of Jane the Virgin are infusing elements of whimsy into their work in strikingly different ways, but to similar effect. The styles they’re using affect the audience’s relationship with their stories and with the characters themselves by giving the viewer an insight that traditional narratives don’t provide.

Wadjda: Empowering Voices and Challenging Patriarchy by Sarah Mason

Haifaa al-Mansour casts an eye onto the complexity of navigating an autocratic patriarchal society in Wadjda. This bold voice from Saudi Arabia continues to empower voices globally.

Mary Harron’s American Psycho: Rogue Feminism by Dr. Stefan Sereda

American Psycho fails the Bechdel Test. … The script, co-written by Guinevere Turner and Mary Harron, eschews any appeal to women’s empowerment. … When the leading man isn’t laughing at remarks from serial killers about decapitating girls, he’s coming after sex workers with chainsaws (at least in his head). Yet American Psycho espouses a feminist perspective that fillets the values held by capitalist men.

21 Short Films by Women Directors by Film School Shorts

For Women’s History Month, we’ve put together a playlist of 21 of those films for your viewing pleasure. As you’ll see, no two of these shorts are alike. They deal with topics like autism, racism, sexism, losing a loved one and trying to fit in and find yourself at any age.

Evolution in Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis and Chicken With Plums by Colleen Clemens

In a similar way to Marji (Persepolis), Nasser (Chicken with Plums) must be sent far away to have his journey of becoming. There is something in him — talent — that requires he must go beyond his home. But whereas in Marji’s case she must go away to protect herself, Nasser must go away so he can grow, get bigger and fuller and richer.

Vintage Viewing: Alice Guy-Blaché, Gender-Bending Pioneer by Brigit McCone

When was the last time we watched vintage female-authored films and discussed their art or meaning? Bitch Flicks presents Vintage Viewing — a monthly feature for viewing and discussing the films of cinema’s female pioneers. Where better to start than history’s first film director, Alice Guy-Blaché?

‘Wadjda’: Empowering Voices and Challenging Patriarchy

Haifaa al-Mansour casts an eye onto the complexity of navigating an autocratic patriarchal society in ‘Wadjda.’ This bold voice from Saudi Arabia continues to empower voices globally.

This guest post written by Sarah Mason appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors.

Haifaa al-Mansour casts an eye onto the complexity of navigating an autocratic patriarchal society in Wadjda (2012). This bold voice from Saudi Arabia continues to empower voices globally.

I first watched Wadjda in the United Arab Emirates and revisited the film this year. In 2009, I was working for the Middle East International Film Festival in Abu Dhabi, the same year the Shasha screenwriting grant was awarded to Haifaa al-Mansour for Wadjda.

At the cusp of adolescence, 10 year old Wadjda (first-time actor Waad Mohammed) enjoys the fleeting freedoms of her youth. She wears the quintessential American Chuck Taylor shoes with bright laces that allow her to run to school alongside a male friend; a small freedom that will be further limited as she grows into her adolescence.

Her colourful hairclips are a small statement of individuality, and her shayla is causally placed over her hair, often falling down, blowing in the wind, sometimes lost on the way to school, snatched teasingly by her young friend Abdullah. The frivolity with which Wadjda interacts with the shayla is one of nonchalance; a relationship not yet fully formed by the imposition of its more stringent usage and variations. Soon, she will have to fully conceal her hairline with a tightly pinned al-amira or khimar, and later, societal ‘norms’ will expect her face to be fully covered with the niqab.

At school, the head teacher harshly reprimands Wadjda’s elder peers for speaking too loudly. Other students, with their faces covered to avoid confrontation, scuttle past anonymously. The head teacher, Hessa, commands that it is time for Wadjda to wear full abaya for school and to replace her shoes. It is important to mention that such repression of female voices is not only within the borders of Saudi Arabia. In Turkey, the Deputy Prime Minister announced during Eid al-Fitr in 2014 that women “laughing in public” equated to “moral regression.”

At home, Wadjda compliments her mother’s singing, asking her, “Don’t you wish you were a singer?” Her mother’s sharp intake of breath reflects the audacity of the question. There is no official law banning Saudi women from singing, but it is chastised. Much like the musical bard movement that grew out of censorship in the Soviet bloc, magnitizdat, a similar movement is alive in Saudi Arabia. When the Head Teacher empties out Wadjda’s schoolbag, she finds illegal items: tapes of forbidden songs and bracelets of forbidden colours.

In the movie, Wadjda’s mother straightens her hair and applies make-up, yet as a married mother, she wears full niqab when she exits the home. She climbs into a vehicle packed with other women who need transportation to work. Her commute, her strained relationship with the impatient driver Iqbal and the perils faced by other female commuters in this forced environment, is central to her world and her phone conversations. Their fate is in his hands. Every day.

In the only country in the world that bans women from driving motorized vehicles, as decreed by hard-line clerics, this ‘ban’ does not feature in the Qur’an itself and is not written into law. If it were, why does Saudi Arabia stand alone in this inexplicable interpretation of an ancient scripture? Rotana Tarabzouni, a Los Angeles based Saudi singer, refuses to be silenced. She has already voiced her support of the Saudi Women to Drive movement and continues to garner recognition for her singing career. Activist Loujain al Hathloul defied the ban in late 2014 and drove over the border with a valid driving license, from neighboring United Arab Emirates to her home country. She was detained along with Maysaa al Hamoudi who drove from the UAE to the border to offer support. They were both arrested and held for 70 days without any charge, referred to a specialist court on charges of ‘terror’, and have since been released.

Vocal and mobile women are ‘terror’ for the patriarchs of Saudi Arabia, however, for women in Saudi Arabia, the imposition of a male driver on treacherous roads remains their ‘terror’. In 2014, Saudi artist Manal Al-Dowayan exhibited “Crash” to highlight one of the consequences of the driving ban for women. Commuting female teachers are 50% more likely to be killed in a car accident than the average Saudi. Even in notification of death, journalists kowtow to the conservative trend that avoids mentioning a women’s name in public. Tragically, these women often die faceless and nameless. Alternatively, in 2014, licensed pilots Hanadi al Hindi and Yasmeen Muhammed al Maimani became the first Saudi women awarded commercial pilot licenses and they are allowed to fly within their own country’s airspace.

Equally fixated on mobility, Wadjda has her sets her sights on purchasing a bicycle — without training wheels. She listens to rock music and braids friendship bracelets in the colours of the local soccer teams. She takes full advantage of her pre-adolescent youth, delivering hand-written notes to an older boy; where older girls cannot.

In Wadjda, inter-female relationships are strained. Wadjda and her mother argue about the bike. Her mother implores it is “haram” — not permitted. She implies that it may negatively affect her daughter’s marriage and childbearing prospects. Yet it is clear that her mother’s marriage is under siege in a state that encourages polygamy. Even Wadjda’s own grandmother threatens to be the architect of the family’s demise, by selecting other prospective partners for her son to marry. The first line of matchmaking is always a son’s mother and only men feature on the family tree.

In a bid to impress her husband, Wadjda’s mother goes shopping for a bright red dress. The two enter the toilets to try on the garment. The notion of an unclothed women in a dressing room within a mixed-gender store is not permissible in Saudi Arabia. Wadjda’s mother, in the bright red dress is harshly juxtaposed in the decaying bathroom and next to the advertisement for deodorant, where the smiling model has had an abaya block-drawn over her exposed skin. In a world where women are only and always framed within the context of men, Wadjda’s mother doesn’t ask if she looks good in the red dress. Rather, Wadjda’s mother asks, “Will my husband like it?”

With the prevailing existence of Saudi Arabian austerity, ‘rules’ and not laws of the state, undermine gender parity. Many of these ‘rules’ are excused as ‘cultural’ or ‘traditional.’ However, this ‘culture’ is espoused by hardline, wahhabist conservative male religious figures, which mute any discussion or dissent.

We, professional women the world over, do not accept culture or tradition as a rational justification for discrimination against a racial or ethnic group – rather, we would look for opportunities to challenge such prejudices. So why do we continue to accept gender-based inequality and its consequences? We do not. Citing ‘culture’ as corroboration to argument only serves to preserve aspects of a culture that maintains the proponent’s present privileged position.

The internet and increased global travel challenge the old order. Restricting what can be seen, viewed, read and dissipated is much, much harder to control in the new media age. Saudi Arabia is cautiously embracing positive international recognition in new mediums, while dancing precariously with the messaging it conveys. In 2012, the same year Wadjda was released, athletes Wojdan Shaherkani and Sarah Attar made history competing at the London Olympics as the first Saudi female Olympians. A budding art scene, a burgeoning comedy scene, and a feature film directed by a woman — and with women central to its storyline — are all exhibiting new, bold statements.

Since Wadjda’s release, Arab films have garnered more attention in the global market. Barakah Meets Barakah gently navigates young love in Saudi Arabia. The comedic short captured the imagination of Berlin Film Festival audiences who awarded several prizes to Arab films, filmmakers and actors. I write with confidence that each of the Arab filmmakers recognised at Berlinale in 2016 have seen Haifaa al-Mansour’s Wadjda.

It’s a courageous battle to challenge the norm. In a state that imposes rules based on laws unwritten, perhaps it is time to write our own rules. In Wadjda, Head Teacher Hessa proclaims to Wadjda, “Believe it or not, you remind me of myself at your age.” With the wind in her hair, a young girl dreams of the freedom that riding a bike offers so that she may take control of her direction and destination.

Four years after the release of Wadjda in 2012, there are now many more Wadjdas. They are the Haifaas, the Manals, the Rotanas, the Loujains, the Maysaas, the Hanadis, the Yasmeens, the Wojdans, and the Sarahs. They are you and they are me.

They are enrolled in higher education, writing novels and screenplays, vlogging, blogging, creating art, voicing opinions, singing songs, travelling internationally, competing in sporting events, riding bicycles and flying airplanes. They are also doing it all under existing written law, even in Saudi Arabia, and they don’t seek your approval.

See also at Bitch Flicks: ‘Wadjda’: Can a Girl and a Bicycle Change a Culture?

Sarah Mason is an international producer based in Los Angeles. A graduate of Bristol University, UK. She consults on Middle Eastern cultural representation in film and art.

‘Wadjda’: Can a Girl and a Bicycle Change a Culture?

At its heart, this film is about how young Wadjda, played by newcomer Waad Mohammed, navigates her culture and adolescence as a Saudi girl, her relationships with other girls and women, and what seems to be the changing attitudes of her country

Written by Amanda Rodriguez

I’ve been waiting for Wadjda to come to my local Fine Arts Theatre for months so that I could review it for Bitch Flicks! Wadjda is noteworthy because it’s the first Saudi Arabian film to ever be directed by a woman, Haifaa Al-Mansour. At its heart, the film is about how young Wadjda, played by newcomer Waad Mohammed, navigates her culture and adolescence as a Saudi girl, her relationships with other girls and women, and what seems to be the changing attitudes of her country (more on all that later).

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3koigluYOH0″]

Personally, though, I was intrigued by the storyline of her new-found passion and desire for a bicycle.

Some background: I’m a late bloomer. I learned how to drive a car and ride a bicycle at the ripe age of 28. As a woman in my late 20’s, I became obsessed with learning to ride because of the freedom and exhilaration that the bicycle promised. The speed, the control, the sexiness of the road bike, the hint of danger, and the allure of the new experience all kept me riding clumsy circles around my parking lot with a neighbor friend holding the saddle (and therefore keeping the bike upright). For me, learning to ride a bike was not a matter of course as it was with most of the people I know, so I could identify with that longing for the unattainable that Wadjda embodies. Eventually, I learned to ride and became obsessed with it, pedaling my Bianchi 30, 40, 80 miles at a time. I also got really into following professional cycling (more on that later, too…I promise it’s relevant).

Director Monsour, herself, knows a thing or two about doing that which seems impossible. Though she had the permission of the Saudi government to make her film, she was forced to hide in a van for most of the outdoor filming, as it would be unseemly for a woman to give direction, especially to her male actors.

Monsour’s heroine also defies convention with her insistence on buying a bike to race her male friend, Abdullah.

Wadjda also wears brightly colored hair clips, Converse sneakers with green laces, and listens to American music. I find it somewhat troubling that Wadjda’s markers of rebelliousness are primarily associated with her exposure to Western culture, but her mother (a generation older) is a complex mix of culture and gender role compliance as well as rebelliousness: her daily work commute is three hours because her husband doesn’t want her working with men, she scolds one of her friends for not wearing a veil with her abaya, she claims Wadjda’s Western music is evil and that girls can’t ride bicycles because it will affect their childbearing abilities, she threatens frequently to marry Wadjda off, and when Wadjda must don a full abaya at the command of the school headmistress, she looks on with glowing pride as it is a treasured rite of passage.

On the other hand, Wadjda’s mother values her daughter’s happiness and ability to dream, she wears a nose stud, and she rejects the idea of her husband taking a second wife, willing to face drastic consequences if he doesn’t respect her wishes. This shows that over the generations, Saudi women are changing, with mothers imparting traditional values to their daughters while still giving them an increasing measure of freedom and autonomy. Monsour says of her own parents, “They are very traditional small-town people but they believed in giving their daughters the space to be what they wanted to be. They believed in the power of education and training. They taught us how to work hard.” Monsour also asserts that, “[P]eople want to hear from Saudi women. So Saudi women need to believe in themselves and break the tradition.”

I admit that when I saw all the women in the streets and in cars wearing full abayas, I was shocked at the imagery. I immediately perceived them as ghosts flitting through the public sphere with heads down, trying to escape all scrutiny, all notice. As a feminist, I bristled against these uniforms that hide the female form, declaring it taboo and the property of her husband. As the women sat waiting in a hot van with only their eyes visible, I realized, though, that the plight of women in Saudia Arabia isn’t that different from that of women in the US. It is a spectrum, with the US on the opposite end. Saudi culture insists women be completely covered, whereas US culture demands skin, cleavage, form-fitting clothing, and sexiness while simultaneously judging the women who do and those who don’t conform to that standard of femininity. Both cultures insist that the female body is a matter for public debate with the dominant patriarchy making the final judgment (as is apparent in US culture with the current backsliding on reproductive rights due to conservative male decision-making). The female body in both cultures then does not belong to individual women.

The strangely similar treatment of the female body in both US and Saudi culture brought up another intriguing comparison for me: women and bicycles. Abdullah (among others in the film) declare to Wadjda that, “Girls can’t ride bikes.” Now, you might think in the US we get off the hook because most little girls (unlike myself) do, in fact, learn how to ride bikes at an early age, and nothing is thought of it. However, how many of them are encouraged to become professional cyclists? Though there are plenty of American women just like Wadjda who won’t take no for an answer, who follow their dreams to become competitive athletes and cyclists, what does the cycling world look like for them? They’re grossly underpaid, under-represented, and there’s hardly any media coverage of their events. Female cyclists (and, in most cases, female athletes in general) aren’t taught to dream big like their male counterparts, and if they do actually achieve success in their sport, where does it leave them? Mostly, it leaves them in anonymity (do you know the name of the most acclaimed female cyclist in the word? doubt it, but I bet you know the name Lance Armstrong) without nearly the recognition, range of events in which to participate (there is NO female equivalent of the Tour de France), and their rate of pay is a mere fraction of that of male professional cyclists. In essence, US culture is telling us that girls can’t ride bikes. Think about that whenever you want to get all righteous on the Saudi gender inequality issue because we sure as hell haven’t gotten it figured out here in the States.

If there is one theme in Wadjda that cannot be overstated, it’s: The personal is political. In Wadjda, the story of a young girl learning to ride a bike has profound cultural, religious, and gender implications. Her stand is powerful and brave, but more importantly, she never questions the rightness of it. Wadjda never once doubts that she should be able to own and ride a bike. It takes many, many small, personal commitments and triumphs like Wadjda’s to build the foundation of a movement for change.

Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.